


Saturn Returns

by megyal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-04
Updated: 2009-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:18:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malfoy celebrates his so-called Saturn Return with a Saturnalia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturn Returns

[The Saturn Return](http://www.newage-directory.com/saturn.html): _Astrologers call the period between ages twenty-eight and thirty "Saturn Return." That's because it's the first time the planet Saturn completes its cycle through your birth chart and returns to the spot it occupied when you were born. Internationally respected astrologer Rob Hand calls Saturn Return "one of the most important times in your life. . . a time of endings and new beginnings."_

 _"Chasing dragons with plastic swords...  
If you'd like to reach me, leave me alone  
A change would do you good..."_  
-['A Change Would Do You Good', Sheryl Crow](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ikjmz_SlGhg)

* * *

"It's not right," Hermione fumed as she held Draco Malfoy's gilt-edged birthday invitation, pinched between her thumb and forefinger. She shook it violently, as if it had been stuck with Spell-o-tape. " _'Saturnalia_ '. How ridiculous."

Harry, who had tossed his invitation as soon as he got it, now peered at hers. "Why?" he asked and sent Hermione a long-suffering stare when she rolled her eyes at him.

"It's a completely wrong use and representation of the tradition," she hissed. "And the date is all wrong!"

Harry's brain immediately began shut-down procedures; there was obviously a lecture ahead. Ron, who was far smarter than Harry nowadays, was already out cold in the sofa, snoring softly. Hermione began a rant outlining that Saturnalia had nothing to do with Draco Malfoy's birthday, and she knew why he was doing it that way, oh yes, because he was in the middle of his so-called Saturn Return, which was a pile of Divination-based _crap_ , as far as she was concerned, so it was completely stupid of him to use Saturnalia as the theme of his twenty-ninth birthday party. And on top of that, _ancient Roman_ was the dress-code. _Really_ , now.

"We're not going, then," Harry said faintly as his brain refused to process all of that. He had tried to escape to the kitchen of the flat they all shared, scrubbing half-heartedly at the plates as Hermione's words washed over him.

Hermione frowned. "Of course we're going!"

"Of course we're going," Ron muttered in his sleep and rolled over.

"We're better than ignoring his stupid invitations. We're going to go, _yes_ , Harry, you _will_ \--"

"Yes, Harry will," Ron mumbled and Harry stopped making negating, flapping hands in Hermione's direction (flicking dishwater at her hair) and narrowed his eyes suspiciously in Ron's direction.

"Malfoy's expecting us not to be there, he's quite petty and vengeful." Hermione's eyes were shining in wild triumph, appearing petty and vengeful herself. "But I've got his number. Get your toga, Harry. We've got a fake Saturnalia to attend."

*

Harry hitched at the folds of his toga and wondered how Hermione had managed to catch him and spell all this blasted cloth onto his body. It wasn't even hanging right; one of his nipples was exposed, and people were staring at it. At least he had insisted on wearing a pair of red boxers underneath.

"She's fast," Ron said, handing him a tall glass of something green and scary-looking. "You can't out-run her, mate. Just give in to the dark side."

"You know, it would be nice if I could get some support from your end," Harry grumbled and sipped on his drink; it was far too sweet and he tried to tip the rest of it into a nearby plant. The plant made an offended sound and walked away, snapping at Harry's sandaled feet with its vines.

There were a lot of Slytherins here, Harry noted as he tried to evade the plant's disgruntled attack. They were scowling at him, and Hermione was right in the middle of them, being a nuisance. He adored her so much right then for making them so obviously uncomfortable, even _if_ she had dragged him here kicking and screaming.

Ron sauntered off in her direction, presumably to save the Slytherins from her treatise on Goblin Relations, and Harry meandered outside; the party wasn't being held at the Malfoy Manor, but at the house of Zabini's third stepfather. It was tiny, compared to the Malfoy Manor, but it had a very quaint detail of exterior covered walkways with fancy arches, which ran right around the main building; probably Malfoy or his party-planners had chosen this house as part of the whole Roman theme.

Harry stepped out onto the rear walkway, admiring the view of the wild gardens through the arches and then made a face as he saw Draco Malfoy sitting on the wall within an arch, his finely-made toga draped over his knees as he drew them close to his chest.

"What are you doing here," Malfoy asked flatly, staring at him with narrowed, glittering eyes, a true snake. "I only sent that invitation because my mother said it would appear polite. You didn't have to come."

"Hermione said you wouldn't like it," Harry said, suddenly very cheerful. "That's the only reason I really need."

Malfoy's nose and lips curled in a sneer, but he said nothing, he simply returned a brooding gaze towards the unruly garden.

"Happy Birthday, though." Harry hopped up onto an adjoining wall, leaning against the wall of his arch and leaning forward past the column so he could see Malfoy's face. "Twenty nine years of Malfoy on the planet. Bet you're pretty proud of that."

Malfoy's gaze flickered at him, his thin lips pulled into an even thinner line and Harry grinned. He found he liked baiting Malfoy; when the pointy berk flushed angrily like that, it was so _fun_.

"One more year 'til thirty," Harry observed in a sing-song voice, swinging his legs back and forth. "The beginning of the end. All downhill from here!"

Malfoy glared at him, before rolling his eyes and reaching inside his toga. Harry stiffened, making sure he could feel his own wand inside a convenient fold in the swoops of cloth, but Malfoy only pulled out a small, silver cigarette case, retrieved one and said to Harry, "Take out your bloody wand, give me a light."

"These cause cancer, you know." Harry reached forward and touched at the tip of the cigarette with his bare finger, smirking at the quick look of shock that passed over Malfoy's sharp features as Harry lit his cigarette wandlessly. It was really the only wandless spell Harry could perform, and this was after weeks of practice and nearly burning down the flat, but the disgruntled look in Malfoy's eyes was completely worth all of Ron's and Hermione's current refusal to let him near matches.

"Cancer _cannot_ be any worse than having you around," Malfoy said snidely, and blew a column of smoke in Harry's direction.

Harry waved the smoke away cheerfully, and they settled into a silence that was familiar, if not quite companionable. Harry could hear the chirping of the summer insects, and the murmur of conversation that came from the party inside. There weren't any sounds of crashing furniture, so Harry was certain that Ron hadn't got into a fight over Hermione's honour… yet.

"It's been a bad year," Malfoy said suddenly, and Harry looked over at him. He was staring directly at Harry, his eyes dark and solemn, and he wrinkled his nose at Harry's questioning expression. "Aren't you delighted to hear that, Potter? It's been a fucking horrible year for me."

 _Good_ , Harry wanted to say, _you deserve it, you're a pretty fucking horrible person, even now_. Some of this sentiment must have shown on his face, because a knowing smile lit at the edges of Malfoy's mouth. Harry looked away.

"Potter," he heard Malfoy say softly.

"What?"

"Potter," and Malfoy was suddenly standing right in front of him, in between Harry's legs as if he had Apparated there. He was giving Harry that intense look again as he put out his cigarette on the concrete ledge, right next to Harry's thigh. He tilted his head; some of his fair hair fell over his eyes. "Did you know that the Malfoy family is practically penniless now? That I'd love to start my own business, get the Malfoy name respected again, but no one will loan me any start-up capital?"

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you blindly followed a madman," Harry mocked and went still as Malfoy's hands slipped around his throat, squeezing just a little, his fingers trembling hotly against Harry's suddenly damp skin.

"Shut up," he hissed. "You shut up about that. It's my birthday." He was close enough that Harry could smell smoke and alcohol on his breath when he sighed heavily. "I'm twenty-nine, and I have nothing to show for it." He narrowed his eyes and then shook Harry, and not gently either. "You're happy to know, I'm sure."

"Get over yourself," Harry snapped, and tried to peel Malfoy's fingers from around his neck. "You think you're the only one who doesn't have life plotted out perfectly? I still live with my best friends, and I'm sure they want to get married and... I don't know, get on with their lives. I don't like working as an Auror, but I don't know what else I'm good at, and no, I don't want to go pro in Quidditch, so don't even go there. But I have to carry on. It's tiring, but it's all I can do."

"Potter, that's the most ridiculous thing you've ever said, and I've heard you give speeches before," Malfoy breathed incredulously, but he wasn't squeezing Harry's neck so tightly now. He was shaking his head and even smiling slightly, a _real_ smile; how different his face seemed when he wasn't sneering.

" _You're_ ridiculous," Harry countered childishly and Malfoy kissed him. Harry opened his mouth to protest, maybe to bellow in shock as well, but Malfoy's tongue slipped into his mouth. Harry wriggled, trying to shove him away, but Malfoy pressed close and suddenly, his legs were wrapped around Malfoy's narrow hips and he was grasping onto the front of Malfoy's toga, moaning faintly as the kiss became harsher and deeper; his lips were going to be so bruised.

Malfoy writhed against him, and Harry groaned when he felt Malfoy's cock rub against his. Malfoy didn't have any underwear on, a part of Harry's brain pointed out distastefully, but that didn't stop him from frotting even harder against Malfoy.

"Harry?!" Ron's voice yelped through the haze of ruthless want and Malfoy jerked back, breaking the kiss; Harry wondered what he looked like, with his legs and arms all wrapped around Malfoy, his toga rumpled and pulled up as a result of Malfoy's hands, which had roamed and gripped his thighs as they had kissed, even clawing at the skin a few times; there'd be red marks tomorrow that Harry would be strangely proud of.

"Hermione wants to leave," Ron said, staring steadfastly over Harry's head. "So… you know, if you're ready--"

"I'm ready." Harry pushed Malfoy away, hoping that the toga hid his erection. He tried to adjust it, feeling his face flush as Malfoy went to sit back down in his arch. "Um. Happy birthday," he mumbled and Malfoy's shoulders hunched as he went back to considering the plants in the unkempt back yard. "I mean that," Harry continued, a little loudly, and Malfoy looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Try to have a happy birthday. It's not really downhill from here, I think."

"I managed to grasp that point in your rambling dialogue." Malfoy's tone was dry but amused, and Harry could feel Ron bristling beside him, more in confusion than anything else. "I'll try to carry on, Potter. Weren't you leaving?" he asked pointedly.

"Come on," Ron snapped and hauled Harry away, berating him over the trauma of seeing Malfoy's _tongue_ in Harry's _mouth_ and what was Hermione going to think; honestly, they both knew about Harry's preferences and accepted them, but _Malfoy_? _Really_ , now.

Harry smiled at how much Ron spoke like Hermione, and touched his lips, which felt swollen.

Happy birthday, indeed.

 _fin_


End file.
